


Perform a Systems Check (so you don't Crash and Burn)

by desert_neon (sproutgirl)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Panics, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Phil plots, mild usage of someone else's feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutgirl/pseuds/desert_neon
Summary: Agent Bob Keller wants to woo Phil with grocery store donuts. Phil would rather be wooed with coffee, diner Groupons, Captain America paraphernalia, and Little Debbies. He just needs Clint to understand that it is, in fact, wooing.





	Perform a Systems Check (so you don't Crash and Burn)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ereshai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Crash and Burn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608783) by [ereshai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai). 



> A remix of [ereshai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai)'s _fantastic_ [Crash and Burn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4608783). Go read that one first, all! This was written with love, and I hope I did them proud.
> 
> Beta-ed by the fabulous [Jo (jmathieson)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo). Thank you, darling!

“Heads up, Phil,” Jasper said over the break room coffeepot. “Keller was spotted with a bakery box this morning.”

Phil finished pouring into his mug and replaced the pot on the burner, handle pointed towards his friend. He said nothing as he took his first sip, but eyed Jasper in a way that meant, _details, please_.

“Pink,” Jasper elaborated. “Generic, with a grocery store receipt taped to the top.”

Phil nodded his thanks and took his leave, heading back to his office. He should be flattered, he supposed. He was, in a way. Bob Keller was nice enough, if not quite the type to pique Phil’s interest. He was too easy to read and much too quick to temper, and he relied far too heavily on stats and figures, instead of reading a situation or following his instincts (indeed, if he had any). Case in point: Keller’s intentions towards Phil had become obvious over the past month or so, and while that was always good for the ego, Phil had done nothing to encourage the attention. He was polite to the man, always, but clearly not receptive to any advances. 

Yet now Keller planned to woo him with donuts. Grocery store donuts. Phil’s tastes in breakfast pastry ran to the extremes: it was either very fresh, very well-made shop specialties, or cheap, pre-packaged convenience store garbage. There was no in-between. He was a little insulted that an agent of SHIELD hadn’t been observant enough to pick up on that.

Also, the timing was a bit inconvenient.

Okay, _very_ inconvenient.

Because Clint Barton had been keeping a little closer lately, watching Phil a little more. Phil had been finding gifts left for him in random places recently; fresh coffee on his desk after a meeting, a Groupon printout for the diner down the street (the one with the excellent pancakes) taped to the wall of his reserved lane at the shooting range, a keychain in the shape of Captain America’s shield lying on top of the highlighters in his desk drawer.

The fact that Barton had been seen running Natasha’s obstacle training course twice yesterday and once again this morning only added to Phil’s growing suspicion that his personal life was about to get interesting.

Still, Clint could be a little emotionally clueless and romantically inept. It had taken him _years_ to get to slightly unsettling observation and anonymous gifts.

Phil sat down at his desk and pulled up Agent Barton’s schedule, then overlapped it with Agent Romanoff’s, noting the time they would likely be meeting for lunch. They did, after all, owe him their after-actions. If allowed, they would procrastinate until their next mission, and Barton would claim all details of the previous mission had been wiped from memory by the adrenalin of the new one.

Yes. Perhaps it was time to give Barton a nudge.

 

__________

 

“You two,” Phil said, tossing the folders with precision, each landing with a sharp report in front of its intended recipient. “AARs, before you ‘forget’ again.”

“Sure, boss,” Clint said, pushing the file to the side. “It’ll be on your desk tonight.”

“It’ll be in my hands in an hour,” Phil countered, his tone brooking no argument. “You have time, you have an even writing surface, and you have—” Phil pulled two of his most reliable Montblancs out from his suit jacket’s inner pocket with a flourish. “—pens.” He dropped the Montblancs on top of the folders and turned, heading to a spot along the wall with decent sightlines to both his agents and the entrance.

“You don’t have to keep an eye on us, sir,” Clint called, humor in his voice.

“I’m sure I don’t know to what you’re referring, Agent Barton.”

Clint audibly huffed, and Phil settled in, waiting.

Sure enough, Bob Keller entered the cafeteria twenty-eight minutes later, pink box in hand, and sauntered over to Phil. He tipped against the wall, facing Phil, insouciantly crossing one foot over the other. “Phil.”

“Bob.”

“Donut?” Keller asked, holding the box up and lifting the lid in a grand gesture.

“No, thank you.”

It was no wonder Keller had never been given fieldwork; his face went through some odd contortions before finally settling on a slightly too-friendly smile. He also didn’t lower the box, as though Phil’s resistance to the supposed temptation would wane. “Saving your appetite for dinner?” Keller commented with a forced chuckle. “Smart man.”

Phil said nothing, not wanting to give Keller an opening quite yet. He knew he wasn’t totally being fair, that he was setting Keller up to fail, but he couldn’t be all that bothered by it. He was a pragmatic man, after all, and Keller would have approached him at some point during the day. Why not use the moment to his advantage? But he didn’t want to lead Keller on, so he merely gave him a bland smile, nothing to confirm nor deny, and nothing to indicate interest.

“It’s good to indulge if the dinner is worth it,” Keller continued, undaunted. “A good meal, fine wine. Perhaps a decadent dessert.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Of course, that’s all made even nicer with the right ambiance.”

Though he wasn’t looking at Clint directly, Phil couldn’t help but feel Clint’s stare. He strengthened his smile a touch and shook his head. He wasn’t disagreeing, necessarily, just unsure as to how Keller had apparently confused him with Jasper. “I don’t know,” he argued mildly. “Some of the best meals I’ve had have been at grease-traps and holes-in-the-walls.”

“Oh, sure,” Keller hastily agreed as, in Phil’s peripheral vision, Natasha signed her report and stood. “It all depends on the chef.”

“Or what you’re in the mood for,” Phil countered, his smile turning real—fond—as he thought back to some of his favorite food-related moments. “And the company you keep,” he added, turning to greet Natasha with the same fond smile as he accepted her report. “Thank you, Agent Romanoff.”

One corner of her mouth turned up in a dangerous, knowing grin, and Phil had only a moment to second-guess himself and this whole impulsive, harebrained idea of his before the other half of her smile appeared, softening it into approval as she gave him a small nod. “You’re welcome, sir.”

Natasha walked away with barely a glance at Keller, who hadn’t even had the manners to offer her a donut. She wouldn’t have taken it, Phil knew, but that was hardly the point. Keller certainly wasn’t doing himself any favors with respect to getting into Phil’s good graces.

Stepping further into Phil’s—or any of SHIELD’s top operatives’—personal space also probably wasn’t a good idea, but Phil kept a polite, mildly pleasant expression, not wanting to cause a scene.

“Speaking of good food,” Keller said, leaning in once more, “where’s your favorite place to eat in the city?”

Phil hummed, shifting as if in thought and using it as an excuse to put just a little bit of distance between them. “Oh, I don’t know. There are so many places popping up all over town these days. It’s hard to keep track of them all.”

“I hear you. Especially all the fusion places around now. Whatever happened to the classics? A good steak, or French cuisine. Or, hey!” Keller said, brightening falsely as if the thought had just occurred to him. “There’s a new place over by my apartment. Amazing food, cozy atmosphere, great wine selection. Just a little Italian place you might like. I could get us a table tonight.”

“On such short notice?” Phil asked, striving to keep his voice mild and even as Clint approached.

“I know the owner.”

Phil turned fully to his asset then, smiling a more genuine smile than Keller had been the recipient of, and accepted the AAR.

“So, tonight?” Keller pressed.

“He can’t.” Clint’s voice surprised Keller, clearly, and even Phil hadn’t predicted that Clint would speak up _on the spot_.

“Excuse me?” Keller asked.

“He can’t go anywhere with you,” Clint insisted, his expression one of stubborn determination, “because he’s going out with me tonight.”

Phil didn’t say anything, mostly because he was too busy dying with carefully restrained glee. He’d wanted to nudge Clint, yes, but he hadn’t expected _this_.

“But you just got back from a mission,” Keller said, dangerously close to a pout.

“There’s no mission,” Phil interjected. He hadn’t anticipated this outcome, and while he didn’t want to date Keller, he certainly hadn’t wanted to stomp all over the guy’s feelings, either. Time to end it, simply and gracefully. “Thank you for the invitation, Bob, but I’m otherwise occupied tonight.”

Keller exhibited no such grace, snorting and stomping away, and discarding the rejected donuts on a nearby table.

Phil ignored the swarm of junior agents alighting on the box in favor of watching Clint.

“What?” Clint asked, rubbing the side of his nose in a gesture Phil easily read as uncertainty.

“We seem to have plans tonight,” Phil said, taking pity on him. “What time?”

“Um, seven?”

“Are you picking me up, or should we meet somewhere?” Phil asked. He hadn’t planned this part, not at all, but he knew Clint well. He was probably freaking out internally, and if Phil didn’t help guide the process, Clint would panic and run, and Phil would lose all chance at anything more than a good working relationship with him.

“You like Italian, right?” Clint asked, loud and fast.

“I do.” Phil kept steady, using his voice to reel Clint in as he had so many times before, under much different circumstances.

“So, um, how does pizza and beer and crappy tv at my place sound?”

“It sounds exactly like what I’d planned to do tonight,” Phil replied, honest and happy, “only with much better company. Perfect.” He tucked the reports under one arm and turned to go, determined to leave before Clint could take the offer back out of sheer terror.

“Perfect,” Clint croaked from behind him, and Phil turned back, realizing Clint could still panic and run in the intervening hours. Phil had to let him know it would all turn out just fine, no matter what happened.

“I’d like to plan our second date,” he said, “if that’s all right with you?”

Clint nodded, a dazed expression on his face. “Seems fair.”

Phil smiled, letting it reach his eyes. “See you tonight.”


End file.
